


Secrets Don't Have Tombstones

by NuffSaid



Category: Gilmore Girls, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Murder Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-01-18 19:56:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12395106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuffSaid/pseuds/NuffSaid
Summary: When Sam left home, he took on a new identity.Years later he believed he put that identity behind him, but burying a past that still has a future is not an easy thing to do.





	1. And then there was Stars Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this story for my best friend's birthday.  
> She's an adorable, but tough judge. You guys feel like helping me make sure this story goes in the right direction?

It was the day Sam Winchester turned 16.

That was the day he knew he was going to leave for good.

 

John came back from a hunt, tired and covered head to toe with blood, Dean trailing  behind him silently the way he normally would.

That was the way he always was next to their father. A shadow. A shadow seemed to mirror John perfectly.

Well, almost perfectly.

Despite Dean’s arduous efforts - the shadow he was next to him was abnormally small.

He didn’t have a say in anything, didn’t have a purpose besides surviving - and that was on a _good_ day.

He had no choice but to be dragged around wherever his father went -

and obey _._

 

Sam hated seeing his brother that way. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would be content in living like that.

He watched as John swiped a bottle of whisky off a cabinet.

“You almost got us killed.”

His tone was impersonal and devoid of emotion, but both brothers froze in their spot, doing their best to keep their lungs working.

They knew a storm was coming.

“I’m sorry sir, I will never let that happen again. He came out of nowhere I-”

The sound of glass shattering against a wall reverberated around the room.

 

John stalked over to his eldest son, stopping a mere inch away from him.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses _Dean,_ real men should face the consequences of their actions head on.”

It pained him, killed him to see his brother treated that way, but it killed him even more to see him just taking it.

_“Dad!”_

 “Stay out of it Sam.”

For once in his life - Sam wasn’t willing to listen.

He stood up, leaving behind the birthday cake one of his friends baked for him. He was really hoping to eat it together with Dean. That was the only reason he was home right now, and not off somewhere with his friends.

Dean never forgot his birthday, he never forgot anything that Sam deemed important.

Dean made sure he believed in Santa until he was thirteen years old.

Dean hid his own allowance under his pillow when he lost his first tooth.

Dean deserved standing up for.

 

“Dad leave him alone _._ ”

Both men turned around to look at him. John’s frown was made of stone, as was his heart. The deep lines surrounding his mouth looked like they were physically carved into his skin, and the younger Winchester found it constantly surprising that the man bled blood and not tiny splinters  of flint.

Dean on the other hand, looked terrified, and not because he was afraid of what his father would to to _him,_ but what he would do to his _little brother._

“Sam go to your room.”

“No.”  
John finally put some space between him and his eldest.

“Sam, this is none of your business. Go to your room before I’ll have _make_ you.”  
“Do as he says, Sammy.”

Dean’s eyes were pleading with him, but Sam wasn’t about to back down. If anything he stood even taller, looking down at his father like he always wanted to do. Like he always deserved.

“I’m not going anywhere _._ ”

 

It took John three seconds flat to push him roughly against the wall.

And then a fist collided with his nose.

Blood came rushing down to his lips, a _lot_ of it, but instead of cupping his wound in pain Sam spit it at the older man’s face.

It dripped down his cheeks, red and prominent and fitting _._

_“You’ll pay for that!”_

John readied another punch, but before he could do anything he was shoved out of the way by a very scared, albeit very angry Dean.

Dad stop! ”

 “My authority will not be questioned in my _own_ house!”

“This is our house too!”

Sam shouted, hands fisted at his sides.

John struggled in Dean’s hold, managing to get him once on his left cheek.  
“Who do you think keeps you boys fed and clothed? Who do you think keeps you alive? You should be _thanking_ me!”

Those last words tore the very last thread in Sam’s well-maintained composure.

“You delusional asshole! Dean almost got _you_ killed? _You_ keeping _us_ alive? If it weren’t for you we wouldn’t even be in danger in the first place!”

 

**_“Sam!”_ **

Dean was the only one who could make Sam stop what he was doing and listen. The only one he looked up to enough to listen to.

That is why the next thing he did was the hardest thing he’d ever done;

He grabbed his backpack off the floor, shoved a jacket and the little money he had inside, and left.

 

~xxxx~

 

Sam traveled around for a while, picking up different jobs and a different name along the way.

In Missouri, he met an old couple who let him use their guest room in exchange for work around the house: fixing broken furniture, cooking, cleaning - he even took them out on walks when they got too bored staying inside the house.

 

In Indiana he worked as a mailman, getting up early in the morning and coming back late at night to his modest apartment, which he shared with his two roommates:

Josh, who was an aspiring rapper who thus far didn’t manage to score anything bigger than a gig at his 12 year old cousin’s birthday party, and Anna, who was a chick-sexer.

(which _no_ that’s not a fancy word for a lesbian and _yes_ that’s a real job, he checked. Apparently, chick-sexers are those people you didn’t know existed whose job is to check the sex of chickens for big chicken farms).

 

In Ohio he stumbled onto a successful artist who was showcasing his paintings in the Cleveland Museum of art. The guy was so good, he landed him a job there within two days. Sam hated the ridiculous uniforms they made their employees wear there, but his stomach was always full and his spirit always high, so he considered getting that job a win.

 

And then there was Connecticut.

Or more accurately;

And then there was Stars Hollow.

 

~xxxx~

 

Stars Hollow was a small town, sitting smack in the middle between Collinsville and Hartford.

Everyone knew each other there - heck, everyone were basically living in each other’s backsides.

It wasn’t exactly the type of town Sam would choose to settle in. God knows he had too many dark secrets to keep.

He couldn’t risk anyone finding out anything about him.

And he wasn’t planning on staying for long - maybe crush at the local inn for a day before heading back on the road, but as he walked through town looking for a place to grab a bite to eat, he noticed a girl reading a book in the shade of a big, white gazebo.

 

For a full minute he looked at her, envious of how calm she seemed to be.

She was so at home there, with a couple books peeking out of her schoolbag and a styrofoam cup that read _‘Luke’s Diner’_ on the front.

For the first time in months, his mind drifted back to _his_ home. The home he didn’t even think existed.

John kept them moving around so much - they rarely ever had a _house,_ so a _home?_

But then Dean’s face flashed in his mind, and he knew he used to have a home, he just abandoned it.

 

“You’re blocking my way.”

Sam finally looked away from the girl, his eyes falling on a less pleasant sight - a skinny man who, against all odds, managed to look serious in a hotdog suit.

He looked around just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things and that there was, in fact plenty of space left on the sidewalk.

“Can’t you just walk around?”

 

“No. This suit is obstructing most of my peripheral vision. You’re standing right in the middle of the sidewalk. That’s where people usually walk, and where they expect other people to walk. If I walk around you people wouldn’t be expecting me to walk there. I won’t expect them either, because I can’t see much to my right, or to my left, and that means I’ll probably crash into somebody, and that means Taylor would fire me, and I can’t afford having only six jobs.”

 

“Kirk, leave the poor thing alone, would ya?”

A middle-aged woman with a raspy voice shimmied her way over, stopping beside ‘Kirk’.

“Don’t mind him, he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I did. I meant that he should move.”

The woman ignored the guy, pushing herself in front of him.

“I’m Babette, what are you doing carrying around such a heavy bag? are you lost? Looking for a place to stay? What’s your name honey?”

 

“I’m fine, really.”

Sam insisted. He knew this was not a good town to settle in. Second person he met, and he was already being asked these many questions. Better not stick around. He should probably find a place to rest and be gone by tomorrow morning.

He remembered hearing about an inn in the area. The ‘Independence Inn’, was it?

“Actually, would you ah, would you mind giving me directions to the Independence Inn?”

“So you _are_ looking for a place to stay! You know, we have a spare bedroom at our place. Me and Morey and our little baby Cinnamon that is. Morey!”

She called, looking around.

“Morey!”

 

“It’s ok, really, just the directions would be a great help.”

“If you say so hun, but you’re always welcomed to stay with us.”

When Sam had the directions tucked securely in his jeans pocket on that small piece of floral paper Babette had pulled out of her purse, he pretty much bolted.

 

~xxxx~

 

When he got to the Independence Inn after a couple of wrong turns and an unpleasant, one-sided conversation with the owner of the town’s small supermarket, he wanted to do nothing else but shut himself in a room and sleep until tomorrow. He was just _so_ tired.

 

He got three steps towards the front desk when the girl he saw at the gazebo passed by him running.

She dropped a kiss on the cheek of the woman standing behind the counter, making the man next to her grumble and spit out some curses in a thick French accent.

 

Again he couldn’t stop staring. There was just something about her, beautiful smile aside.

Actually why should he put anything aside?

The girl was gorgeous _._

She had big blue eyes, a cute button nose, rosy cheeks, and the most adorable chin dimple he’d ever seen.

He wanted to go up and talk to her, but he was too nervous. He was actually feeling a little light-headed from it all.

 

He looked around a small bit, eyes closing in on the various paintings decorating the walls.

Apparently abstract was in, because they all looked smudged and nebulous. It wouldn’t be his choice of paintings, that was for sure.

But it wasn’t just the paintings though, he realized.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

 _Everything_ was fuzzy, dripping color and merging together - the blue walls oozing down unto the wooden brown floor, the colorful guests streaming down to meet it, creating an ocean that wasn’t blue, and wasn't exactly rainbow-colored either.

 

It was black.

It was _all,_ black.

 

Sam shot up in his bed, heart pounding fast, entire body covered in cold, sticky sweat.

The room was dark around him only for a second, before it was bathed in so much light he thought he was staring into the sun.

Through this light he could make out a face.

“Sam, are you ok? You were _screaming_ man, I thought for sure something must’ve happened.”

Dean offered him his hand, pulling him up and looking him over worriedly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

The older man wasn’t completely convinced, but he chose not to push.

 

After all they’ve been through - nightmares weren’t exactly an out of the ordinary occurrence.

“Well, as long as you’re up, I found us a new case.”

“Oh yeah?”

Sam asked. He had to admit - he would kill for a diversion right about now.

“Yeah. Some folk started going missing from this one small town in Connecticut.”

If he felt terrified before, _now_ he was close to passing out. When Sam had visions, even if they were visions about his past, they usually meant something bad was brewing.

He almost didn’t want to ask the next question.

“What is the name of that town?”

 

“Stars Hollow.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. I'm Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luckily for Sam and Dean - Stars Hollow is a town that likes to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope you guys enjoy~

Stars Hollow was almost exactly as Sam remembered it:

Kids dancing around wearing ridiculous costumes, no doubt for a play Miss Patty was holding.

Tired-looking teens placing handmade decorations around the big gazebo under the stern eye of Taylor Doose, who observed their every move through the glass windows of his Soda Shop.

An abundance of leaves decorating the ground in warm colors of red and orange.

The familiar yellow sign of Luke’s diner gently swaying in the wind.

 

But something didn’t feel right.

 

Sam felt like something rather large was being jammed down his throat.

“Sammy, are you ok?”  
“Yeah. I’m fine.”

No. He wasn’t. This was bad.

He never told Dean about his time spent in Stars Hollow, about the family he had here. He knew every inch, every nook and cranny of this town - the scrapyard where he built Rory her first car, the old Twickham house, all the spots their town troubadour used to sing and play his guitar.

 

And this town knew _him._

Perhaps that was the bigger of the problems he’d have to face.

All night he lay awake in his bed, debating what he should do. This was a job _._ He’d have to interview people. There was no running away or hiding from the situation.

“Seriously man, you’ve been acting weird all the way down here. Are you sure you’re ok?”  
It took everything in him to turn his head around and give his older brother a reassuring smile, and if Dean knew him at all, he could probably tell that it was forced.

 

“No way! Dean? Is that you?”

 _Well,_ Sam thought. _I’m fucked._

 

Dean’s head whipped around in surprise as Lane Kim came running towards them, dragging her husband behind her with a none-too-gentle grip on his hand. Zack wasn’t looking too happy about that, or happy at all for that matter.

 _“Do I know her?”_ _  
_ Dean whispered as discreetly as he could to his panicking brother. Before Sam could answer, however, he found himself being crushed into a tight hug which, despite everything, he couldn’t deny the tiny Korean woman.

“I haven’t heard from you in years! Where have you _been?_ ”

 

Lane detached herself from the hug eventually, skipping back to take a better look at him.

He in return looked at her _._

There were bags under her eyes, the skin around slightly puffed and red. The smile she wore however, was genuine.

The entire time he observed his old friend he could feel Dean’s eyes burning holes into his side.

 

“Ah, Kansas, mostly?”

The answer was vague, and it didn’t seem to satisfy her, but in true Stars Hollow tradition - she was more interested in spreading the word of his return around than anything else.

“I have to go tell everyone! It’s so good to see you, how in the hell did you manage to grow even taller?”

 

Sam choked out a chuckle as she jabbed him lightly on the chest.

“Zack come on, I have to go find Rory!”

_Rory. I’ll have to see Rory again._

He didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Good to see you man.”

Zack tapped his shoulder before being dragged away again.

_“Sam.”_

 

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, feeling copious amount of sweat pooling out every pore of his body. His heart was at it’s limit, beating like a sacrificial ritual drum.

“Yes..?”

Dean didn’t seem too pleased with his one-word answer. He crossed his hands in front of his chest.

 

“You have some explaining to do.”

 

~xxxx~

 

The family that took Sam in was incredible _._

Nowhere would you find people kind enough to take in a 16 year old kid with a questionable past that easily. Nowhere but in Stars Hollow.

 

The Foresters were the kind of couple you’d see in an 80’s commercial or the Donna Reed show- May was the loving wife and doting mother hell-bent on making sure her kids and husband had whatever they needed, which more often than not included warm meals and knitted cardigans with their initials boldly decorating the fronts.

Randy was the provider, the hardworking husband who came home late but still made it his mission to be as available to his family as he could.

 

And then there was Clara, the little sister Sam never knew he wanted.

She was close to turning seven when he was introduced to her, a sweet little thing with shoulder-length blond hair and bangs that had the habit of covering her blue eyes.

The two of them clicked right away. She had all the mischievous qualities John had never allowed him to express, all the little quirks a girl her age was supposed to have.

She won him over with the first toothy smile she gave him.

  


The first week at his new home was the hardest. Sam was already a paranoid person by nature, and the fact that the entire town was constantly watching him was difficult.

Thankfully, May and Randy were quick to sign him up for school, which meant he could drown his worries in studies - just as he always yearned to be able to do.

Well, studying and watching his new crush read her books under that big gazebo in the center of town.

She was fascinating to him.

One time two guys were throwing a ball around maybe two meters away from her, and one of them got nailed hard in the face.

It was an absolute mess - blood everywhere, the nurse came out, his girlfriend was freaking out, and all that time she just kept reading. Never even looked up from her book.

He remembered thinking; _I have never seen anyone read this intensively. I have to meet this girl. A_ _sk her name, talk to her._

 

And so when he finally got the opportunity - he did.

 

She was clearing up her locker, stuffing all her books into a cardboard box when he spotted her. She was getting some help from her best friend.

He waited somewhat impatiently for Lane to scuttle out the front entrance before gathering up the courage to introduce himself, but even then all he could really do was stand and watch as a book fell from her box unto the floor and she crouched down to pick it up.

 _Say something!_ He pleaded with his uncooperating brain.

 

“God! You’re like Ruth Gordon just standing there with a tannis root. Make a noise!”

She said after being thoroughly startled by his presence when she reached out to pick up a squashed piece of paper.

 _Finally_ something he could latch onto.

“Rosemary’s baby.”

 

“Yeah.”

She rose up slowly, big eyes timidly meeting his own.

“Well, that’s a great movie. You got good taste.”

She didn’t reply, or rather she didn’t know how to reply. There was a combination of surprise and nervousness swimming around in her eyes, painting her cheeks pink, spreading a shy smile across her face.

Everything about her made his heart flutter.

 

“Are you moving?”

He asked, gesturing down to her cardboard box.

“No. Just my books are.”

Thankfully he was well versed in hiding his emotions, so the immense relief over what she just said didn’t show on his face. At least he hoped it didn’t.

“My family just moved here from Chicago.”

He told her, feeling good knowing that it was actually not a lie. The Foresters moved to Stars Hollow only two weeks before they adopted him.

 

“Chicago. Windy. Oprah..”

She listed off the only things she knew about the place, eyes darting around as she thought, nodding to herself after every word. He couldn’t help the amused smile that found it’s way to his lips.

“Yeah, yeah that’s the place.”

He dug his hands into his jacket, wishing he was more confident, more smooth.

Wasn’t that what girls liked?

_Dean would ask her out by now. He’d swoop in and steal her heart in seconds._

 

He was never happier with the new identity he created for himself.

When he had to give out his name to the old couple he stayed with all those months ago, his older brother immediately popped into mind, and the answer was out of his mouth before he could think about it.

He didn’t regret it.

Whether it was because he looked up to him, whether he gave him courage, or whether he just plain _missed_ him - Sam knew that until their paths crossed again -

 

“I’m Dean.”

 

~xxxx~

  


Sam awkwardly shifted in his chair across his brother, doing his best to give him as much time as he needed to process everything.

He never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would have to tell Dean about that secret period of his life.

He also never imagined doing so at the Dragonfly Inn, after Dean had unsuccessfully tried to put his moves on _The_ Lorelai Gilmore back at the front desk.

 

His brain felt like mush.

 

After what seemed like forever, Dean finally dragged his eyes away from the loud flowery wall paper to look his younger brother in the eye.

“You should’ve told me.”

Sam only told Dean about Stanford and his plans to become a lawyer, but even that he watered down as much as he could, blurring some paragraphs, skipping lines altogether - he knew that deep down his brother didn’t want to know.

Leaving him alone with their abusive father was nothing short of betrayal. All that time spent living a healthy life, nurturing healthy relationships while his brother struggled to simply stay _alive…_

 

“I’m sorry..”

The older man sucked in a deep breath, anger and hurt forcefully pushed to the back of his mind so that he could address the situation at hand.

“So what’s the plan here? We can’t pretend to be FBI if everyone already knows who you are.”

Sam tried to impede the small smile that fought it’s way to his lips, but did a poor job at it if to be judged by his brother’s annoyed frown.

 

“We don’t need a fancy suit and a badge to get anyone here to talk. Believe me.”

  


~xxxx~

 

Luke’s was already stuffed to the brim with hungry townsfolk when the brothers maneuvered themselves over to the counter.

It was odd seeing the ballcap wearing diner owner again. He had aged - probably more to do with his sharp-witted wife than anything else. Not surprising, really. Lorelai was and always would be special

 

Dean seated himself on one of the tall bar chairs, eyes immediately gluing themselves to a piece of pie resting on a small cake stand. He motioned for his brother to join him with excited hand gestures that belonged to a kid - not a 37 year old man, and the giant was torn between rolling his eyes and choking out a breathy laugh.

As soon as Sam took a seat himself, Luke, without even looking up from his current occupations, slid two inhumanly large mugs their way and filled them with boiling coffee.

“I didn’t order-” Sam cut his brother off with a pointed stare.

One does not simply visit Luke’s without getting coffee.

 

Sam cleared his throat loudly, hoping to catch the other man’s attention.

In hindsight - he should’ve known that tactic would never work on him.

If anything he just gave him something to prove. He could almost imagine what was going on in his thick head; _Those_ annoying _customers. If they want food they should_ ask _for food. I’m not serving food to anyone who doesn’t even have the courtesy to ask!_

“Luke.”

He said in a mildly annoyed tone.

 

Luke dragged his eyes away from the plate he was holding, expression bored until he saw who it was who called him.

Sam never had an incredible relationship with the man, but other than the fight they got into when he broke up with Rory, they got along ok. Most of the time at least.

“Dean! Didn’t see you there!”

He exclaimed. From the corner of his eye Sam caught Dean’s, the _real_ Dean’s head snapping up in attention.

Man _this situation weird.._

 

“Just got here,”

Sam chuckled before gesturing over to the coffee mug he received earlier.

“Been moving around last couple of years. Your coffee’s still the best out there.”

Luke rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before awkwardly straightening his cap.

“Yeah, well… so what are you doing here anyways? Visiting family?”

There was more truth to that question than the hunter was comfortable with. He hasn’t seen Randy, May or Clara in years.

 

He’s been keeping tabs on all of them though - mostly on Clara. He knew that she left Stars Hollow around five years ago, and was currently living in Berlin with a guy named Wolfgang who.. Climbed things for a living.

Needles to say he wasn’t exactly fond of the guy.

Even if he didn’t get a chance to meet him in person.

“Yeah.. visiting family, um,”

He hurried, not willing to linger on this particular subject.

“I heard what happened.. It’s horrible.”

 

Luke looked down at the counter, lips setting in a deep frown. He wasn’t one to show much emotion, but Sam could tell the recent deaths and disappearances in this usually quiet town weighed down on him, just as they did everyone else. The famous, unique cheer people used to have around here was no more.

Fake smiles that stretched the skin in odd ways and didn’t reach any eyes.

That was the only thing left behind.

Every time Sam thought about it felt like someone was using his heart as a punching bag.

 

Dean sneaked a worried glance in his direction, and Sam could almost capture the exact second in which he realized that there was a chance he actually knew the victims.

“They’re bringing in a team of investigators from Hartford. It’s not very large from what I heard, but it’s something.”

Luke provided, handing a plate with burger and fries to one of his servers. His eyes looked a little distant. A little angry too.

“I tried to convince Lorelai to take a vacation somewhere, just until this whole thing gets handled, but she doesn’t want to listen. It’s like talking to a wall with her sometimes.”

 

Sam could imagine that.

It wasn’t as simple as Luke was trying to make it out to be. All her friends were there. Sookie was back working at the Dragonfly - he noticed her chatting with a guest before they left, and from what Lane had said earlier, Rory was around here somewhere as well.

Better not push the subject though. It was none of his business anyways.

“Yeah, she was always stubborn that one.”

His eyes darted around the diner for a moment, using that time to figure out how he was going to ask the next question. In the end he decided to just get on with it.

 

“Say, do you happen to know where they’re staying? That team from Hartford I mean.”

Luke slowly raised his eyes back up, meeting Sam’s over a cup of already cooling coffee.

“They’re keeping it under wraps. For good reason - people in this town are too emotional for their own good. _You’re_ not planning anything, are you?”

 

In all the years he’s known him, Sam had never, not even _once_ found himself on the other end of Luke’s scolding gaze. Up until now he was sure it was reserved only for Lorelai and Rory on those days when they refused to eat the grapefruit he put in front of them after they ordered an abnormal amount of unhealthy sweets.

 

“Just, uh..  Just curious.”

He could tell Dean was looking at him funny. If he was surprised at Luke’s reaction, then Dean was surprised at _his._

A cloud of uncomfortable silence started circling the counter. It would have stuck around if not for his old name being called out from behind him.

 

A young man with a gingery-red beard pushed his way in their direction.

Dean was about to answer, but caught himself from doing so at the very last second with a frustrated groan.

Sam narrowed his eyes around the stranger. He wasn’t from town, or if he was he didn’t recognize him.

 

“Dean? Dean Winchester?”

Sam’s heart jumped to his throat, but thankfully the man was looking at him and _not_ Dean, which meant he only knew his brother by name.

_Another hunter perhaps? It wouldn’t be surprising if he were. Both of them were pretty famous in the hunters community._

Luke looked between the two of them with a slightly raised brow.

“Forester.”

Sam corrected quickly, but not before shooting his brother a _‘Do something!’_ type look.

 

“Bullshit.”

The stranger wasn’t buying it, and if he was indeed a hunter then it was not surprising. Either way they had to do something fast if they didn’t want their real identities revealed. They needed to give him _something._ He didn’t look like he was planning to leave them alone before he got the answer he wanted.

Dean looked like he was starting to panic, but what he ended up spouting was the _last_ thing Sam expected, even in spite of that.

“That guy’s just a local. If you’re looking for a Winchester though - I’m Sam.”

 

_Seriously? Someone is just bound to screw up now. This is getting way too confusing!_

Luke still seemed to be closely observing their interaction with the bearded stranger, but thankfully Dean noticed that as well and slowly steered him out of the diner.

“You know these guys?”

Sam threw his eyes away from the closing glass door and snatched his mug up, taking a long gulp of cold coffee. He planned to make it look casual, but he knew it failed pretty miserably when the diner owner fixed him with a questioning gaze.

 

“Seen the tall one around. Never met the guy with the beard though.”

 

~xxxx~

  


Back at the Dragonfly inn, Sam plopped down heavily on his temporary bed and glared so hard at the man standing in front of him that he actually looked like he was getting scared.

Sam was usually very easy on other hunters, especially young ones, but this one - Taking _no_ safety measures, yelling bullshit when he refused to give him his real name - the guy was an absolute _idiot!_

For once it was Dean’s turn to be sympathetic, standing there next to _Chad_ \- that was his name, with a hand in his jeans pocket and a pitying look on his face.

 

“Sammy lets calm it with the bitchfaces ok? He’s a bit inexperienced, but he’s got info.”

Chad fiddled nervously with the hem of his sweater, and Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

He was one of _those_ guys, huh?

The ones who grew out a beard, carried around an old gun and decided that they were already full-fledged hunters because they tagged along on a single case with their old man once.

“Fine. Tell us what you know.”

He relented. They needed that info more than he needed to lay into the guy.

 

“I came to Stars Hollow around two weeks ago. I was only planning to stay for the weekend, I have family here-”

“What family?”

Dean gave him a look, but Sam couldn’t care less at the moment. Who knows who this guy really was. Better safe than sorry.

“Patricia LaCosta. She teaches ballet lessons, she’s my.. Grandmother. Sort of.”

Chad shrugged.

“It’s complicated.”

 

“You’re miss Patty’s _grandson?_ I thought she has no kids.”

Dean bounced a confused stare between Sam and the young hunter, who let out a nervous laugh and proceeded to drop down on the small sofa next to the bed. He ran a hand through his beard.

“She doesn’t..  I’m Sergio’s - her third husband’s son’s - son, from a previous marriage. I was raised by my step-mom and I used to visit Patricia on holidays as a kid, so I always considered her my grandmother, since I never really knew my biological mom’s mother, or my-”

 

“ _Please_ don’t ask him any family-related questions. Bottom line he’s not a threat. Let’s just get on with the case.”

Sam tried to avoid the look his brother was giving him, without much success. In the end he had to admit that Dean was right - he couldn’t imagine how the scrawny-looking guy could be of any danger to them.

He met Chad’s eyes and gestured _Go on_ with his hand.

“I didn’t come here looking for a case, but on the second day I.. found one anyways.”

He started.

 

“I was on my way to a see Patricia when I heard a scream coming from a nearby house. I went to check what was going on, so I opened the door - which was unlocked,  and I saw this man begging for forgiveness. He was trying to get away from the ghost of a second man. He kept saying that he should understand, that it took him time to come out _too_.

I didn’t get there in time..”

 

He took a deep breath before finishing his story.

“I did some research, but no matter who I asked nobody knew the identity of the ghost, so I had no way of getting rid of it. I kept looking - but nothing. Nobody knew who he was, and the bodies just kept dropping. I couldn’t do _anything._ ”

He looked very much defeated after having said that last sentence, and Sam finally started to feel a little bit of sympathy. His gaze landed on the round clock nailed into the wall in front of him. Wasn’t it time for…?

 

“I think I know how to get the information we need.”

 

~xxxx~

  


The hunters entered the big ballet studio to the sound of Taylor knocking his beloved gavel on the speech lectern.

Sam led them over to the lines at the back of the room, finding a couple of unoccupied seats next to the still opened wooden doors.

He looked around, familiar faces popping out at him from every corner.

 

Lane and Zack sat next to each other, joined by their twin boys Steve and Kwan. The two completely ignored Taylor so that they could instead focus on an intense match of thumb wrestling.

Next to them and observing them with great interest was little Martha, who was currently straining to see over her older brother’s shoulder, tucked in her boyish overalls and a pair of over-sized farmers boots. Sookie and Jackson’s attention was torn between Taylor and their kids, leaning more towards the latter when Davey decided to try pushing his sister out of her seat.

 

Babbette had her eyes fixed on miss Patty who had taken her usual spot next to Taylor, and the two of them were making loud, offhand remarks about every matter the man brought up, much to his growing frustration.

The room was speckled with memories.

Perhaps _‘speckled’_ wasn’t the right word to use here. It didn’t quite describe the overwhelming wave of emotions that erupted from the bottom of Sam’s stomach, quickly conquering his entire body one lung, one choked up throat - one pounding heart at a time.

 

It was when Rory entered the room though, cheerfully chatting away with her mother that he felt himself truly tense up. He couldn’t move an inch, it was like someone turned his brain off.

The only thing he had complete control over was his eyes, and they followed his first love like she was the core of the universe.

 

Rory walked passed him, her soft brown hair swaying with every step she took. She had some of it tucked behind her ears the way she used to have it when she was younger.

She didn’t change much, which seemed impossible because the last he saw her she was eighteen. She was now thirty-three.

Her face was more defined though, he guessed he could count that as a change. It lost some of it’s smooth babyish charm, but other than that she was just as he remembered her:

Eyes so blue it put the ocean to shame, and a smile so sweet that he could confidently bet tasted sweeter than chocolate.

 

When Dean turned to ask him if he was alright he felt like an awkward teenager caught staring at a cheerleader.

_You’re thirty-four years old Sam! Thirty-four!_

For once, he was grateful for Taylor’s incomprehensible love for his gavel, and how much he loved to loudly bang it on things.

 _That sounded dirty._ He thought. Like something he would think of as a fourteen year old kid.

_Taylor better start talking._

 

“Alright, let’s move on to the next order of business. We have some.. Unfortunate matters to discuss.”

The entire room quieted down at once, something that Sam was sure have never happened before.

It was like all air was sucked out of the studio and everyone held what little left they had in, too scared to open their mouths and lose it.

“Yesterday evening our dear Lana passed away. She’s the fourth one in these past two weeks. We’ll be holding a charity event for the grieving families tomorrow between nine am to seven pm.”

 

Sam’s trained ears caught the distraught sound of sobbing coming from a few chairs to his right, and he clenched his hands into fists in his lap.

“We plan on holding it at the gazebo and it’s surrounding area. We’ll need around ten gracious volunteers to set it up.”

Immediately hands flew up. The room looked like a class of overly-eager students desperate to answer a question correctly.

Little by little Taylor assigned people their tasks, crossing them off on his grey page holder.

 

After that, he tried to gradually change the subject, but it seemed that by then everyone’s mind was already latched unto the victims and their families. It didn’t take him long to call the meeting off.

People started getting up, but none left the room. Instead, they all walked around trying to comfort one another. Even mrs. Kim stayed behind, hands held in front of her in a silent prayer.

Dean got up as well, tapping his brother’s shoulder gently.

“We’re gonna start interviewing people.”

He said, gesturing to Chad who was standing a step behind him quietly.

“You can go back to the room, watch some TV, take a nap or something. We can handle this ourselves.”

 

“No.. I need to be here.”

Sam insisted. Dean didn’t argue, just gave him an understanding nod and motioned for Chad to follow him.

As the two drifted further away from him, Sam found himself lazer-focused on his old love once again. She was talking with Babbette and Morey, her eyes jumping between them tiredly. At this point _everyone_ looked tired.

“Dean?”

Sam turned to see who called him.

 

“Andrew, how’re you holding up?”

The old book store owner tried to tug his lips upwards in a pitiful attempt at a smile. His daughter was one of the missing three that haven’t turned up yet. Sam was sadly _very_ familiar with what the other man was going through.

“When.. uh, when..?”

There was no right way to ask a parent when their kid had gone missing, and knowing that made Sam feel a just little better about his one word question.

 

“Three days ago. She was supposed to pick her son up from school.. But she never showed up. It’s that Robert guy, I just _know_ it!”

Sam perked up at that.

“Robert?”

Andrew nodded, his eyes filling with hatred all at once.

“Robert Weston. He’s her co-worker. I’ve seen the way he looks at her, the way he follows her around. I should’ve _known._ ”

 

“It’s not your fault. Besides, this Robert guy might not have anything to do with it.”

Sam said, hoping it would keep Andrew from blaming himself too much. Self-loathing was a dangerous hole to fall into. He had his older brother to prove for it.

“It has to be him. I told the police, they said they’d look into it, but I don’t think they took me seriously.”

Thankfully, that part Sam _wasn’t_ very experienced in - if someone close to him was kidnapped, he didn’t need to wait for the police to do something about it - to organize a rescue party. He _was_ the rescue party.

 

Of course, that was a double-edged sword. If he failed, there was never anyone to blame but himself.

“I have a couple of good friends in the force. I’ll try to pull some strings.”

Andrew’s eyes glowed at the offer, and Sam hoped he wasn’t giving the man any false hope.

 

~xxxx~

 

Gathered around a small table back at the inn, Sam, Dean and Chad each shared the information they acquired at the town meeting.

“I don’t understand this. Is there an infestation of ghosts around here or something? How can we have so many suspects?”

Dean spread all their notes on the wooden surface, re-reading everything for the third time. He had to stifle the overwhelming urge to tear the pages apart.

 

“So far we have an obsessed co-worker, a crazy wife, a patient with a suspiciously-timed stroke, some angry dude who wanted his boyfriend to come out of the closet, a murderous baby-sitter, _and_ a rabid dog attack. This makes no sense.”

Sam had to remind himself that they faced worse in the past. They fought the _devil_ himself for god’s sake!

 

They will crack this one too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo what do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!


	3. Sophie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes for a walk when...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long ass wait guys! Working on too many different projects at the moment so it took some time.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy and if you have any constructive criticism I would be super grateful if you write it down in the comments. It'll mean a whole lot because I'm really trying to get better :)

Even dark the streets of Stars Hollow seemed entirely non-threatening. The scariest thing it had to offer at the moment was a stray cat making eerie noises as it rummaged through the dumpsters. That, and perhaps the notion of Kirk running out buck naked on one of his episodes, but Sam made it a point to pick up his pace when he neared his and Lulu’s house.

Better safe than sorry.

 

It was a quiet night and it helped him think, which he was immensely thankful for as it felt like his brain was close to malfunctioning. He wasn’t ‘losing his marbles’, so to speak, but the damn things were definitely knocking into one another in a none-too-gentle manner;

The case, The town, Dean, his old friends.

Rory.

Somehow the image of his first love walking out of miss Patty’s studio overpowered almost everything else. He missed her, and he didn’t know he did until he saw her again.

 

He missed listening to her talk him through her overly intricate esseys. Missed Eating lunch together at Dose’s Markets’ storage room on his breaks. Missed feeling like a king as he threw his arm possessively around her shoulder at Star Hollow’s ridiculous excuse of a cinema.

Missed those long chats they had, even if he was a typical teen back then who was admittingly, slightly more interested in making out than yesterday’s homework assignments.

He missed normality.

 

Those days were so simple.

Instead of waking up in the middle of the night with a barely contained scream and a thick coat of sweat over his forehead, stitching his brother up in a dirty motel room or worrying about an impending apocalypse - instead of all that he could just -

Watch Rory browse for new reading material at the local bookstore for three or four hours.

 

Sam eased his already slow pace to a stop.

The night air felt cold against his cheeks and nose, and he buried his face as deep as he could into the collar of his coat. For a second the hunter in him jumped to attention; unusually cold weather would suggest a ghost was around somewhere. His hand found the handle of his trusty gun peeking halfway out of his back pocket, accompanied by a dainty bag of salt-bullets, silver bullets, and some regular ones just to stay on the safe side. It retracted quickly enough, though.

There was nothing unusual about the cold, he reminded himself. Stars Hollow just got cold on February nights.

 

He was about to check his phone for the time when a loud, feminine scream tore through the silence. February couldn’t explain that.

“Who’s there?”

He hollered into the empty street around him, trying to detect where it came from. The sound of a metal gate being brought to a brusque and haste close was enough of an answer for him.

“Hey! Stay where you are!”

Most street lights were off by now, but having been outside for an hour or so his trained eyes caught the figure of a man sprinting away with little trouble.

 

As he took off after him, he realized that the guy was an exceptional runner. He managed to consistently stay at least six meters ahead.

On its own that might not be so impressive, but running was something that Sam had in his duffle-bag of tricks since his early twenties, and to so easily invalidate that fact raised about a dozen red flags in his head.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate as he watched the man veer himself into a stretch of curved pavement. He slipped right out of sight, hidden by the wall of a house.

 

Hoping that the curve slowed him down some, Sam turned the corner a couple of seconds later, gun pointed forwards.

The road in front of him was empty.

Instead of yelling out something cliche like _‘Show yourself!’_ or _‘I know you’re there.You can’t hide forever’_ however, Sam opted to rely on his hearing. How many times did the bad guys answer, anyways?

He hoped he would catch the sound of footsteps sooner or later. Maybe a suspicious shuffling in the leaves, or an eerie creak of someone’s wooden porch being carefully trod upon.

 

Unfortunately, he was greeted by silence.

It hit him then that catching and questioning his target was only half of what needed to be done. He needed to check up on whoever that screamed belonged to.

Normally he had Dean to count on to take on one of those tasks. Hunting was so much more efficient and easy with a partner.

_“Damn it!”_

He turned on his heel and ran back, hoping he could identify the right house when he saw it.

 

The way back felt longer, but eventually Sam found himself standing right where he was before.

He allowed himself a second to catch his breath before he opened the gate. A second in which he zeroed in on the slightly agape front door of the house.

With heavy steps he walked towards it, gate creaking after him as it clanked shut. He wrapped a hesitant hand over the door handle.

“Anyone there? I’m here to help.”

He called out, voice losing its firmness gradually through the sentence. He got no answer, no indication that someone was alive and breathing in there.

 

With all his heart Sam wanted to believe that whoever that woman was, she managed to flee during his chase with her attacker. That maybe he managed to buy her some time. With all his heart he did...

 

But then his eyes fell on the mangled body of Sophie, Andrew Langford’s missing daughter, and they _fell_ , in every sense of the word. Fell hard enough to feel the impact, the shock and the pain that came with it.

And the guilt. There was a _lot_ of guilt.

He should have known better. After years of hunting - he should have known not to give a distraught parent hope when he had no guarantee that it was justified.

 

~xxxx~

 

Dean ran past the gathering of devastated townsfolk, getting to his brother’s side right as the ambulance doors shut.

It was slight, but he was sure he saw Sam flinch when it did. The younger man stared at something in the crowd, darkened with thoughts and emotion he couldn’t read.

_“Where is she?!”_

Dean watched as an aging man shoved his way over to the ambulance, white as a sheet. His breathing came out in such an erratic way that two of the nurses dropped what they were doing to rush over and steady him. He looked on the verge of losing consciousness.

 

“Sammy, what happened?”

Dean coaxed, laying a gentle hand over his shoulder. The red and blue police lights took turns illuminating his face.

He got no answer.

“Grandpa? Where are they taking mommy?”

A high-pitched voice asked in confusion, drawing Dean's attention to it. It came from the same spot that Sam’s gaze had been bound to all this while.

The voice belonged to a small child - maybe five or six years old. He had a mop of thick, curly hair that fell over one of his eyes, and was holding the hand of a middle-aged lady, who was very clearly trying to keep from breaking down in tears.

 

“Hey,”

Dean started, carefully positioning himself in front of Sam and blocking out his view.

“This is not your fault.”

He wondered how close his brother really was to this case. If he knew the victim - her family, and just how well.

Part of him was still angry. He didn’t understand why he never told him anything about it - he thought they shared all their secrets.

Brothers keeping things from each other was normal, but in a way, he’s always seen them as best friends.

The loud sound of police sirens made him look up.

 

There were already several police cars parked around the humble little house, but not one had made it a point to blast their sirens. The assembly of curious onlookers turned to observe their newest company as it made its crude, final destination between the ambulance and a group of startled nurses.

And then out came two policemen.

Dean recognized the badges sewn on their uniforms: The first had two, wide, vertical lines connected together by two thinner horizontal ones, and the second was just a simple wide vertical line.

 

A Captain and a Lieutenant.

_About time they got the big guys involved._

The Captain made his way to one of the police officers already on scene, followed by the Lieutenant. The guy they approached was in his mid-twenties at most, and absolutely terrified. The number of _‘Yes Captain’_ s and _‘Yes Lieutenant’_ s leaving his mouth, the profuse amount of sweat drenching his forehead, and the ridiculously incessant nodding caught Dean in an internal conflict between feeling bad for the guy and getting himself a big bucket of popcorn.

The show seemed to end, however, when the officer pointed a shaky finger at Sam.

Instinctively Dean found himself pounding his feet in the Captain’s direction, feeling oddly belligerent.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

The Captain exchanged a stiff look with the Lieutenant. A clear, but unspoken order.

 

The Lieutenant - a stocky, mustached man with a protruding belly and a name tag that read _‘M.R. Sanders’_ , pulled a notepad and a pen out of his left breast pocket.

“I’d like to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.”

The action’s entire purpose was to allow the Captain to steer past him on his way to Sam. It was in their best interest to separate the witness from everyone else.

Dean knew how these things worked by now: Sam was their only witness, therefore their only suspect _._ At least before taking statements from Sophie’s family and friends.

 

Being suspects in a murder investigation was never a cause for panic to them - they have long mastered the art of disappearing without a trace, but with this particular case Dean knew that they should be extra careful.

As smart as Sam was when he was sixteen, his stay in Stars Hollow wasn’t exactly brief. Who knows if he accidentally missed something or didn’t cover his tracks well enough?

 

Forget that, they didn’t even have the advantage of their usual FBI cover story. They were just nosy citizens that decided to pay Stars Hollow a visit at a very suspicious time.

Sure, Dean could still try to convince them he was FBI without his fake badge, but he had a feeling this could only go badly. Maybe if he knew for certain that Garth was still up..

_No. It’ll still be too risky. Even if he is, there’s no way he’d manage to fool a Captain. Not half asleep, that’s for sure. This was a job only Bobby could have pulled off._

 

~xxxx~

 

Lorelai hugged her sleeping robe tighter under her chest, staring at the policemen as they asked Dean their questions.

She wasn’t close enough to be able to hear much. Just the same monotone mumble with a distinguishable word here and there. Not nearly enough to pick up anything important.

 

The last two weeks have been hard on everyone. Her only comfort was knowing that Rory was job hunting somewhere safe, away from whatever it was that was happening in their small town. But of course, that didn't last for long.  

If anything, people started coming back _._

 

First it was Babette and Morey, who returned early from their vacation in Mexico with an awkward looking chihuahua dog that she was half sure they mistook for one of those weird-looking hairless cats.

Then it was Sookie, who attempted to surprise her but failed miserably after running headfirst into some hanging pans - which made such a ruckus that even Michel, who was outside angrily tending to the horses in a sick co-worker’s place managed to hear her.

And then Rory came back three days ago.

 

Truth be told before she did Luke was on the verge of convincing her to stay at a fishing cabin he visited when he wanted a temporary escape from the town. He'd ask for her company, but the stench of fish, deteriorating floorboards and those god damn windows that opened and shut during the cold windy nights didn't exactly agree with her.

As if on cue, Lorelai felt a hand close around her shoulder.

 

“You ok?”

Luke asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He probably noticed that her gaze had shifted from Dean to Andrew and his grandson.

The two were locked in a heart-wrenching embrace, made even more so by the innocent expression the kid was wearing as he laid his cheek over the old man’s trembling shoulder.

“What's even happening, where is all of this coming from?”

Instead of saying anything he only pulled her into his side, arm curled around her back.

 

“If I somehow got Rory to agree-”

“She would never agree.”

“You don't know that. Maybe I can try bribing her, She told me she started learning Chinese and I found this really thick dictionary-”

“Luke, she isn't leaving Lane behind.”

Luke let out a tired sigh.

 

A few more minutes passed in silence. The crowd didn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon - perhaps a combination of sympathy for the Langford family, and the fear of going back home on their own.

Rumors already started to surface. Nobody knew anything for certain, though some claimed they did - which she figured was only to be expected.

The most popular, and at this point also most logical explanation, was that there was a serial killer on the loose.

Lorelai didn't have a suspect in mind quite yet, and how could she really, when she had known every person in this town for _years?_

 

Her gaze shifted once again, this time to the new guy who hit on her when she handed him the keys to his room back at the Dragonfly.

The policeman who interviewed him had already finished taking his statement, so at the moment he was stood leaning on the hood of his old-fashioned car, sneaking worried glances at Dean. She wondered how they knew each other. They seemed close.

“Do you know him?”

Lorelai asked.

“Who?”

 

Being as discreet as she could (which was _really_ not her thing), Lorelai nudged Luke’s shoulder and tilted her head in said guy’s direction.

“He came by the diner yesterday.”

He didn’t elaborate. Lorelai fixed him with a glare.

“He and Dean seemed to know each other, but I get the feeling they didn’t want me to know.”

“Why?”

Luke shrugged, hand moving back to adjust his ball cap, only to realize that it was still back at his apartment somewhere. Contrary to what Lorelai believed before they started going out - he did not actually go to bed wearing it.

 

“Maybe you should ask him.”

Luke suggested.

“He has a cute butt - I’ll just sic Babette and Patty on him.”

Those two really did have a knack in soliciting information. Their methods were quite... _unique,_ but they had a staggering success rate to show for it.

“You’re evil woman. _Evil._ ”

“What can I do? It’s a genetic Gilmore gene.”

~xxxx~

 

The early morning sun did the impossible and filtered through the thick curtains of Sam’s room; and those had not one, not two - but three layers. Sam couldn’t fathom their purpose. In his opinion the room was accessorised enough: The pillow cases were decorated with so much lace that he almost felt like he slept on a defiled wedding dress, and the flower print had carried over all the way to the bathroom, where it sat staring up at him from the closed toilet seat everytime he passed it on his way to the sink to splash cold water on his face in an attempt to keep himself awake.

It was weird how only a day before he found the room almost charming, in that nostalgic ‘I helped build this place’ kind of way.

 

His hand ghosted over the new notes he collected at the scene. They weren’t many, as he didn’t have the heart to approach anyone while they grieved, but he did get two interesting leads:

One - A teenage girl claimed she saw the cops bagging up a wrist watch that belonged to one Joe Burke, a pizza delivery guy who also happened to be her ex. Sam had his doubts, but he didn’t want to overlook anything.

And two - Robert Weston, Sophie’s co worker and the person her father suspected, was apparently a big marathon running fan.

For obvious reasons he chose to focus more of his attention on the latter.

 

Problem was - Robert hasn’t been seen by anyone in five days. No one knew where he went, and the brief conversation he had with his younger sister bore no fruit either.

According to her, one of Robert’s biggest hobbies was camping and was known to set off by himself without telling anyone and come back a couple days later, so no one found it worrying _or_ suspicious.

He didn’t know how to ask any more questions without seeming like he had an agenda. Especially with the number of police cars canvassing the area.

They already alluded to the fact that they were suspicious of him.

 

He knew that soon enough they’d be forced to clear him of course - the murders and disappearances have been going on for two weeks now, while he only arrived two days ago, but he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t careless.

Their true identities have been discovered in the past, and these guys were professionals. He doubted he could do anything if Robert’s sister were to get uncomfortable, pull over a police car and tell them what she thought.

He had to think things through. Come up with a plan before he did anything rash.

 

The sound of his ringtone snapped Sam out of his thoughts.

He took a good look at the table before starting to gather sheets of paper into his hands and out of the way, until eventually, he found his phone. It was Dean.

“Sam? Sammy you there?”

His brother’s voice came out in a panicked whisper.

“I’m here, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m- _Oh god_ .”   
The other line went silent for a moment, and sam’s ears managed to pick up on what sounded like retreating footsteps.

 

“Dean? _Dean?_ Talk to me! What’s going on?”

“You gotta come help me Sammy! They- They’re _after_ me!”

Sam found himself on his feet and out the door before he could think about it, boots hitting the stairs to the _bang bang bang_ of his heartbeat on his rushed way down to the lobby.

“Where are you? What is after you?”

“I took a right at the bathrooms. I thought there was an exit -  Like a, like an employee smoking area or something, but there was nothing Sam! Nothing!”

 

“Dean what the hell are you on about? You’re inside a building? Where?”

“Wait! I think I hear you! ”

Sam came to an abrupt stop. He slowly turned his head to the right, where a small broom closet was tucked into the side of the staircase Harry Potter style.

He hauled the door open with an unnecessary amount of force, glaring at the person inside.  

Dean stood there - huddled between a bucket and some cleaning supplies.

 

“Are you _kidding me?_ ”

“Are they gone?”  
Dean asked, ignoring his brother’s annoyed scowl as he peeked both sides out the closet. Sam had to take a long, deep breath before asking his next question.

“Who? _Who_ is gone Dean?”

The answer came only a second later, certainly _not_ courtesy of Dean though, who was currently too busy retreating even further into the closet.   


“Dean, _honey!_ I haven’t seen you in years. Look at you, all grown up. You look almost.. Scrumptious. Doesn’t he Babette?”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo? What do you guys think?  
> Again, it would mean a lot to me if you leave a comment :D


	4. A Different Kind Of Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather not spoil it for you guys...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longass wait! Been busy with other stuff and kinda forgot about this fic...   
> Well, anyways - Enjoy :D

Miss Patty hauled Sam and Dean into the dining area and pushed them unto a pair of vacant seats. They settled awkwardly on the thin, flower-printed fabric of the cushions. It seemed no matter how they tried they couldn't get away from it.

Babette took a seat in front of Sam, laying her elbows on the table and her head in her palms, looking like a teenage girl crushing on the captain of the football team.

Sam coughed uncomfortably, then shot his brother a look of pure desperation. Unfortunately, the older man seemed more amused than sympathetic.

 

“So, Dean here tells me you two know each other.”

Miss Patty announced with a subtle arch of lipstick-smeared lips as she set to circle the table. 

Sam resisted the urge to glare at his brother. 

“I have it on good authority that you told someone otherwise.”

Dean's eyes widened and Sam could almost hear the ‘How did she know?!’ in his expression. He would feel bad for him if he wasn't currently occupied with feeling bad for himself.

 

Miss Patty came to a stop behind the startled man. 

He gave an almost inaudible yelp when she laid her hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into him like a masseuse getting ready to treat an especially tense client.

“W-Who told you that?”

He asked, sitting still in his seat.

“Bootsy was there when you told Luke!”

Chimed Babette, smiling bright and wide, and as innocent as ever. Or at least that’s what you would assume if you didn’t know her.

 

“Well, you've got it wrong.”

Sam insisted politely. Miss Patty’s eyes narrowed at him from across the table.

“I said that I've run into him. I never said that I didn't know him.”

“So you ran into him and decided to share a room with him? My, Dean, I had no idea you were in the habit of making occasional trips out of Narnia.”

Her smile widened past the line of subtlety, full on smirking at him now.

“It's not-”

Dean started, but Sam cut him off, worried he would dig them an even bigger hole.

 

“We ran into each other and found out we have some mutual friends, and since the inn is on the verge of overbooking with everything that's been going on, we figured we could share. More folk are bound to come back to visit their loved ones sooner or later.” 

 

Babette lowered her gaze to the table, and Sam felt bad for not having thought of a less morbid excuse. Miss Patty seemed less enthusiastic herself. It seemed the interrogation was over. He had a feeling he only won a battle, however - not the war.

“Well,”

Dean started, casually leaning forward in his seat, successfully escaping Miss Patty’s touch.

“I'm hungry. Who's hungry?”

 

“Did someone say ‘hungry’?”

Sam turned his face towards the familiar voice. Kirk approached their table, looking overly formal in his tailored dress pants, his grey vest, and his black tie. It had nothing to do with the Dragonfly dress code, he had not even the slightest doubt about that.

The skinny man pulled an expensive looking pen and a small notebook out of his breast pocket and held them in front of him.

 

“Would you like to hear about our specials today? I have them memorized. Well, I have the entire menu memorized actually. Would you like me to recite all of it?”

His gaze fell on Dean.

“I see you are missing a menu. Really, it would be no trouble at all.”

Dean stared at Kirk with a raised eyebrow, as if trying to determine if he was being serious or not.

“Yeah, no.”

 

xxx

 

After Miss Patty and Babette left them to finish their breakfast, Sam and Dean decided to head out.

Sam wanted to take a second crack at Robert’s younger sister, though he'd have to be extra careful not to tick her off. She was their strongest lead at the moment.

They were on their way to Al’s Pancake World where she worked when Chad caught their eyes from across the street. The red-haired man waved at them enthusiastically and began to walk in their direction.

 

“What are we going to do about him? We can't have him reporting everything we're doing to his grandma.”

Dean's voice was close to a whisper. 

They didn’t think it through before letting him tag along the day before, but getting properly acquaintanced with Miss Patty first thing in the morning had made them both wary.

“I don't know, try to avoid him?”

Sam suggested, watching the man as he merrily picked up his pace. He was smiling an especially wide smile.

“How?”

“We could pretend we didn't see him.”

Dean gave his brother an exasperated look.

“We're looking  _ right at him! _ ”

 

“Sam, Dean!”

Chad called, closing the distance between them and putting an end to their hushed conversation.

“I was looking for you,”

He reached a hand into his jeans’ pocket.

“I found-”

“Look, Chad,”

Dean started, gesturing him to stop. Chad did, looking up in confusion. He felt a sudden, familiar fondness for the man. He reminded him of Cas a little.

“You're a cool guy and all, you really are, but…”

He trailed off.

 

Chad blinked, hand still in his pocket. Then his body seemed to slump.

“It's just that with Miss Patty…”

“What would I even tell her? she's not a hunter.”

He had a point. Sam admitted to himself. 

Still, they didn't know him well enough to take the risk. What's more, with Chad following along Miss Patty would have an excuse to lurk about wherever they went. Not lurk, actually. She didn't need to lurk. He was her grandson after all.

 

“You probably won't.”

Dean agreed, trying to wipe the frown off of the younger man's face. It wasn't working too well.

“Fine.”

 

The brothers watched as the redhead strode away. He tried to appear unaffected, but the slight slouch of his back told them a different story.

“Why do I feel like I just kicked a puppy?”

Dean asked no one in particular. Sam nudged his shoulder.

“Come on.”

 

The two resumed their walk. 

As they maneuvered their way through town Dean started to notice that Sam's gaze stayed focused on the ground at all times. Like it offered some great and convoluted mystery only he could see. 

He was about to question him about it when he noticed something else;

People were staring at them. 

 

They weren't mean stares, however, they were curious stares.

Actually, he thought, They're not exactly staring either. They look like they’re trying to capture his gaze more than anything.

He wondered how many of them were his brother’s old friends and family. There was a lot to this story that Sam hadn't let him in on yet, apparently, and he was surprised at how betrayed he was feeling.

 

The chiming of doorbells snapped Dean back to reality, and he realized that they had reached their destination.

Al’s Pancake World was a misleading name, he decided as he entered through the glass doors.

The menu above the cashier counter contained a mixture of Indian and Chinese items, with a few lone Mediterranean dishes thrown in for no apparent reason.

Pancakes weren't mentioned anywhere.

 

Sam turned around to meet his brother's eyes, before pointedly focusing it on a brown-haired waitress with elf-like protruding ears and a name tag that read ‘Hanna’.

Dean nodded in silent understanding, and the two made their way over to where she stood, hunched over a table with a wet towel and a bottle of dish soap.

 

“Hanna?”

Sam called. Hanna kept at her task, gathering a couple of dirty plates and some silverware into a wooden tray, before placing them down on a chair so she could clean the rest of the table with ease.

“Hanna.”

He called again.

From the start, he could tell she didn't like him very much - though he had no idea why. He was sure he didn't make his suspicions of her brother obvious. In fact, he didn't even mention Sophie’s death, and before the case introduced them to one another - he hadn't even heard of her.

 

Stumped, Sam looked at his brother for guidance.

Dean seemed to be observing Hanna’s reaction - or rather lack of reaction, as well.

Finally, he gestured over to a table on the other side of the room, telling him ‘I've got this, give me some space.’ without words.

Sam frowned but complied nonetheless. 

With some relief, Dean concluded that Hanna hadn't noticed his own presence, only Sam's. She was still scrubbing away, but a lot more calmly now. She didn't seem tense, didn't seem to be outwardly ignoring anyone. 

This could work.  

 

“Excuse me?”

Hanna turned to face him with an overly amiable food-jointy smile. Her shoulder length hair bounced around her, save for a few unruly locks that had been forced to sit restlessly behind her ears.

She was cute, he decided.

“What can I do for you?”

Dean ran all the pick-up lines he’d learned over the years through his mind.

 

“Are you from Tennessee?”

“I have a boyfriend.”

Hanna cut him off before he could finish, but she didn't seem annoyed at the lame, overused line he chose. In fact, she had a genuine smile playing on her lips.

Dean pouted slightly, then sighed in a theatrical manner.

“Aw, don't look so sad! We don't have cake, but I could probably slip you some fortune cookies from the kitchen if you want.”

Fully settling on the kicked-puppy act, he nodded. Hanna giggled, zipping two fingers across her lips before scuttling over to the kitchen.

 

Dean used that time to check on Sam. 

His younger brother stuck out like a sore thumb, head dangerously close to knocking into one of the red, Chinese paper lanterns swinging in the wind that had slipped inside through the open window. The giant gave him a sullen nod.

“There you go!”

Hanna appeared from behind him, gingerly placing his promised cookies on the table. 

“Thanks.”

He was about to reach for one when he noticed the girl was suddenly tense again, gaze having followed his own. 

 

“Do you know him?”

She asked, gesturing over at Sam. Her tone was cold. Sam caught her eyes with visible confusion but turned to focus his attention outside the window, looking a little troubled. 

_ Should I just tell her ‘no’? She obviously doesn’t like him very much, for whatever reason.  _

“An ex of yours?”

He asked, half to buy himself some time, half because he was genuinely curious.

“Heck no.”

She looked disgusted that he’d even suggested it. 

“Is there any particular reason why you hate him?”

 

Hanna looked taken aback by the bluntness of the question but was quick to compose herself.

“Do you  _ know _ him?”

She asked again. This time the words seemed to hold more meaning - in fact, they almost sounded like a warning. 

He took a moment to consider his next course of action. On the one hand, telling her what she wanted to hear might get her to open up to him, but on the other…

Thinking back to the ‘conversation’ he had with Babette and Miss Patty, he decided to stick to the story Sam had told them. If it somehow got back to her that he lied they might lose their best lead.

“We have some mutual friends…”

He said finally. Hanna looked at him through narrowed, brown eyes. 

 

“I have to get back to work.”

 

xxx

 

“Well, that was a bust.”

Sam complained as they exited the restaurant. They stood outside the door for a few long minutes, before a tall woman with a bright yellow coat shooed them politely away so she could make her way inside.

“What now?” 

Dean shrugged, scrunching up his fortune paper between his fingers. It read  _ ‘It seems the fates will be against you today.’ _ . Yeah no shit Sherlock.

“Follow a different lead, I guess.”

He finally answered.

 

“Which one? You said you already checked stabby babysitter, and I know Chad didn't find anything new with that rabid dog.”

Sam shot back.

“Well, there's still batshit wife and old man stroky.”

“Old man stroky? Couldn't come up with anything better?”

“Like stabby babysitter's any better.”

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground pulled them away from their conversation.

 

“Dean?”

Dean turned around at the mention of his name, only to realize his mistake a second later.

_ “Not again!” _ He muttered under his breath.

A mess of scattered groceries lead his gaze to a young girl. A very pale, young girl. So pale in fact, that he was afraid she might join her brown shopping bags on the floor.

He turned to Sam, his curiosity sky-rocketing.

His brother looked even worse than the girl if that were possible. He took a step towards her, arm outstretched, eyes wide. 

 

“Clara.”

The girl's breath hitched at the mention of her name, and then her eyes glazed over. Within seconds she was outright crying. Big, fat dumpy tears rolled down her cheeks, accompanied by high pitched wails. This was not the type of crying you would see in a movie. There was nothing pretty about it. Even knowing nothing about her Dean felt his heart shoot up to his throat.

Sam closed the distance between him and ‘Clara’, wrapping her up in a bone-crushing hug. Her head just barely reached the middle of his chest, and he had to lean down slightly to fully embrace her. 

She looked like a helpless toddler who had just found her parents after wandering around for hours, lost.

 

The exchange had drawn an impressive number of spectators to them. Some which Dean could recognize from the town meeting; There was the ball cap wearing diner owner, the grumpy pigtailed mechanic, the tiny, bespectacled Korean girl who jumped his brother when they've first arrived. There was also Hanna, who stood by the doors of the restaurant with her arms crossed in front of her and her face red and flushed with anger.

 

“Dean?”

The crying girl looked up at Sam, eyes as big and as heart-melting as a puppy's. Then she elbowed him hard in the stomach.

“How can you just come back like this? We- we get no word for years and now you're just-”

Each word was punctuated with another harsh jab. Dean wasn't finding the whole thing purely interesting anymore.

“Woh there, that's enough!”

 

He went to pull the girl away, but Sam shot him a pleading look.

“It's fine. I deserve it.”

He insisted.

“Who are  _ you  _ anyway?”

Clara snapped, momentarily stopping her assault to look at the unfamiliar face.

“Who do you think you a-are?”

She sniffled, gave a loud hiccup, then resumed her hitting, but there was no strength behind it anymore. 

 

Sam laid a gentle hand over her head, bringing it close to his chest again.

_ “Shhh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm here now.” _

It seemed the words had the opposite effect, however, because instead of calming down she began crying even louder. 

Dean noticed Hanna marching in their direction from the corner of his eye. She stopped a mere few steps away, so tense with held-back emotion she was nearly vibrating.

 

“Clara, let's go.”

She said between clenched teeth. Clara straightened her back at the implied order.

“It's ok. I'm ok.”

The brunette took a long, deep breath, trying to adopt a calmer exterior in hopes that her words would reach the shaken girl without sending her to hide behind an impenetrable, defensive wall.

“You don't owe him another chance just because he was family once.”

 

Dean tensed at the word.  _ ‘Family’ _ . Are five years really enough time to consider someone family? 

He wanted the answer to be a firm no, but he knew he'd be deceiving himself: Cas, Charlie, Kevin - even Garth - they were all Winchesters in his eyes in much less than five years. 

Still, it hurt. 

He didn't know why, but it hurt.

 

In front of him, Clara seemed to be considering Hanna’s words, and he could see the tension in his brother's posture. His chest was unmoving, breath locked away, key dangling tauntingly in the wet, blue eyes of the sweet face looking up at him.

Finally, Clara shut her eyes, preventing fresh tears from slipping out.

“I-I can't. He's my big brother. I should at least listen to what he has to say.”

 

Dean picked up on Sam's panic almost immediately. He was hiding it well, but he knew his little brother too well to not notice the signs. His breathing became far too regular for one, which wouldn't tick anyone off - shouldn't really, if not for the fact that he knew the younger man was a pro at regulating his heartbeat in emotionally-demanding situations.

A part of him couldn't help but relish the fact. A petty, vengeful part. 

Her  _ big brother _ .  _ She called him her big brother.  _

Yet another piece of the story he failed to mention.

 

xxx

 

Needing a more private place to talk, the three moved back to the Dragonfly, or rather Dean waited impatiently in the dining area while Sam and Clara argued their throats out in one of the rooms above.

Most of it was too muffled for him to understand, but one word was repeated over and over in between Clara's angry shouts and Sam's low stream of murmured explanations. 

_ ‘Sorry’ _ \- Always spoken with such honest, genuine remorse that even Clara had to stop and regain her belligerent spirit before resuming her yelling. 

 

Dean picked a loaf of the bread from the dainty little basket sitting in front of him, then snapped it into a number of smaller pieces. Instead of eating them, however, he set to throwing them back into it in a bout of frustration.

He repeated the process for quite a while, reducing it into a mess of doughy bits small enough to resemble coffee beans in size - before the familiar face of the inn owner came into his view.

 

“I've got a few pillows we were planning of getting rid of in storage somewhere and a working printer if you want to take the extra mile and glue a picture of whoever's got you so pissed off on them. You can go full WWE smackdown on them if you want - just stop torturing our bread. I've got a questionably sane friend ready to come at you with a ladle.”

Dean drew his hands away from the basket and lowered them at his sides.

“Sorry..”

Lorelai's expression softened just a tad. Then she took a seat in front of him.

 

_ Great.  _

Dean regretted entering the inn again. It seemed to always be filled with nosy individuals out for his secrets. In fact, this whole town seemed to share that goal. How Sam managed to keep his identity hidden all those years was beyond him.

“So,”

The inn owner started, casually pulling the bread basket out of his reach.

“I've got a hunch this has something to do with the family reunion upstairs. Wanna elaborate?”

 

“Not really.”

Dean answered stoically. He owed her no explanations. Unfortunately, she didn't appear to be phased.

“Is Dean a friend of yours?”

The hunter felt something hot and angry bubbling at the pit of his stomach at the mention of his name. He wanted to correct her. 

They've lied to people more times than he could count in the past - but this particular lie was different somehow. Not saying anything made him feel as though he was relying on a white cane to walk instead of looking forward and using his unimpaired eyesight.

 

“We have mutual friends.”

The answer was robotic this time. This lie was at least a little easier to tell because it wasn't his first time telling it.

“If you just had some friends in common you wouldn't be this angry.”

Lorelai pointed out, her observant eyes heavy on his shoulders. He stood up, trying to shrug them off.

“Look, I'm not really in a chatty mood right now.”

“I can tell you about Clara.”

Dean halted mid-step, curiosity holding him frozen.

 

Then he sat back down in his seat.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? I have so many ideas on how to trickle SPN into GG and vice versa and I can't wait to get to every one of them. If you have any suggestions write them down in the comments and I'll add them to the list.  
> Hope you liked this chapter :)

**Author's Note:**

> What do you guys think?  
> I really hope I manage to finish this in time. Her birthday is in less than a month.  
> I could really use your input, so please feel free to leave a comment if you have the time~


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